You Opened My Eyes (but Mostly My Heart)
by KnowNonsense
Summary: She is just discovering her emotions, just learning what it is to love and be loved, when he's torn away from her. Kuze, the key to everything is killed, but she's not content to let him go. She will find him. A story about the growing bonds between family and friends, and one woman's determination not to let love go. 2017 Live Action Film compliant.


**Ship:** Motoko Kusanagi x Hideo Kuze, and minor relationships.

 **Author's Note:** There's so much controversy surrounding the movie, but I've decided that I think it really needs more love. It was a gorgeous film visually, and I found the scenes between Motoko and her mother as well as Kuze to be quite intensely emotional and they really resonated with me. They inspired this fic and while it will be mostly movie canon compliant (especially this chapter) it will diverge and become it's own story.  
I should not have to say this, but MOVIE SPOILERS AHEAD. If you have not seen the movie or don't want to know what happens, don't say I didn't warn you.  
This is unedited (for the moment), so I apologize for any mistakes/errors.  
Please enjoy! :)

* * *

It's so colorful here in the city.

There are holograms, adverts, models, the inhuman – all littering the streets everywhere. People of all different shapes, sizes, colors and enhancements don't bat an eye as she walks by.

For her though, it's her first time witnessing such culture after waking up in a new world and like a child, her eyes are filled with wonderment at it all.

She touches a store window, fingertips meeting glass as she gazes at the wares - moving fingers and clicking gears - when Doctor Ouelet places a hand on her arm.

"Mira, observe only. We're not here to play."

Right. They weren't there to play.

That doesn't stop her from enjoying her view of the world, one first and last time.

* * *

It doesn't take long for her to become disenchanted with the sights. She is sent on mission upon mission, exposed to the slums and lower class of society.

Too quickly the veil is torn from her eyes and it reveals nothing good.

Only bloodshed, pain, and death.

People are corrupt. People are also kind. She's learned this over the past year.

Mira knows her purpose: to protect the innocent, to destroy the evil.

Back then it never occurred to her, not even once, that she might not have known the difference between the two.

* * *

Her division, Section 9, is something…something new to her.

It niggles in the back of her mind, the feelings they inspire, and it bothers her that she can't quite give the sensation a name.

She admires Togusa's practicality, his intelligence - his self-preserving instinct because unlike her, he needs it.

She respects Chief Aramaki. He is tough but also wise, and not blind to the reality of what fates can befall the innocent. He's a good leader and exactly what their team needs.

Batou…what can she say for him? He's annoying and he's stupid. He's like a puppy - always nipping irreverently and tugging on his leash - (where did that come from?) yet even still, she trusts him.

She trusts all of them, somehow.

Even when the aggravate her, tease her, or fail to properly execute their duties, she doesn't loathe them. For some inexplicable reason, she never has the desire to hurt them in any way, shape or form - or even to leave them. Sometimes she even _likes_ their company.

Not that she'd ever tell that to Batou.

But why?

Why does she have an… _interest_ in their lives?

They're her co-workers. Their relationship is (should be) impersonal.

If she was ordered to terminate them though, would she?

...No. Not unless her superiors gave her a _very_ good reason to.

Huh.

She hopes that one day, she'll discover the logic behind this irrationality. Hopefully it's not a glitch.

She doesn't want to let this feeling go.

(Let _them_ go.)

* * *

It's her latest mission and already things are going poorly. She's defied orders and she's too late to rescue anyone now, but her job here's not yet finished.

In fact, it's just getting started.

Her gun rests just inches from the Geisha's face, threatening and ready to be used at just the slightest hint of provocation.

"Tell me who sent you," she demands, and the Geisha scuttles backwards.

"Help me, _please_ ," its robotic voice contorts, dual tones too high and too deep all at once. "Don't let me die."

Her gun wavers. _Am I like that?_ She steadies it.

"Help me, _please_."

"Speak!" She shouts, and then the Geisha's voice lowers ominously, playing back a recording and a message.

" _Collaborate with Hanka Robotics and be destroyed_."

Its face opens with a hissing screech, glistening pearly skin lifting to reveal the horrifying workings underneath.

Without a second thought she shoots five bullets from her gun straight into its head. It stumbles backwards, falling to the ground with a metallic clack, and she exhales a harsh breath.

When she's sure it's dead she peers at it closely, at the gears and wires that make up its face.

She looks down at her own hand where her skin is scorched, her insides exposed to the air.

They're not so different.

"Come on, you're not the same. You're not _like_ her Major," Batou says once he arrives on scene to find her standing in the same spot, gazing perturbedly at the Geisha with a furrow between her brows. He rests a hand on her shoulder but she brushes him off, coolly walking away and reverting her body setting to invisibility.

Internally, she's seething.

What would he know?

He's human.

He wouldn't understand.

* * *

It's swelling, bubbling to the surface and building within her - the anger and dissatisfaction with her position in life.

She wants to remember her origins so badly, to feel her path, to know the people who once connected her to the rest of the universe. Without her memories she has nothing now, nothing of her own - except for her job.

No personal relationships.

There's a key to her past, she knows. It might be in those glitches - in fact, it's definitely in them.

The problem is, they scare her.

Whenever she sees the distorted flames, the static shaking and the image of that same, dirtied shrine, she fears.

Fears that the glitches mean something within her is failing. That they mean she can't complete her one purpose (her one connection to the world - reason to live). More than anything else though, she fears what she might find.

She knows what they told her. How her parents died, their ship sunk by terrorists.

What she doesn't know is if they loved her. If she loved them.

In those kinds of relationships, you're supposed to aren't you?

Somehow, she feels in her heart that is the truth. That somewhere, she was loved.

However the fog in her mind is deep, dark, and underneath it she senses so much pain.

So she accepts it, what they tell her, even though it doesn't feel quite right. There's something more to it, and she'll discover it one day.

When she's feeling braver.

* * *

Kuze is a sinister, looming storm cloud; a menace, clogging up the horizon and standing as an obstacle in her path. He's dangerous, he needs to be eliminated, and there's nothing personal there.

He's evil.

That's all there is to it.

* * *

The prostitute on the side of the road is human, she can tell, though she is not without her own slight enhancements. Is she beautiful? Probably. She wouldn't know - she's never thought much of beauty.

The woman's cheeks are freckled, her skin a light caramel-brown and hair close-cropped to her scalp. Glittering patches of gold adorn her face, though she peels them off at her request, setting them down beside her gingerly.

Sitting here, kneeling in front of her in a private room, she can only gaze upon this human body with wonder, awe. For these few moments, that body is hers alone to explore. She stretches out a hand, ghosts fingers along a cheek and presses them down into one, soft lip. She moves one around, curious, and asks, "How does it feel?"

How does it feel to be human, alive and breathing in your own, God-given body?

"It feels different," her companion replies and she nods. It must.

Here, alone with a person society deems dirt, she suddenly feels more human, more in control of her life than she has in all her past year of waking up.

Here with that person, she looks at her and sees someone beautiful.

She leans in and slots her lips against hers.

They kiss.

* * *

"I had a dog," she tells Batou as they drive, the image hazy but there of a floppy-eared beagle not dissimilar to Gabriel.

She doesn't know why she tells him this.

"Huh. Color me surprised." Batou says, and she quirks a single eyebrow at him questioningly.

"I had you down as more of a cat person."

When she sees the bomb, hears its ominous tick and spies the faint, red glow emitting from it, there's only one thought roaring past the blood rushing though her ears.

 _I have to protect Batou._

She leaps in front of him, hurls her body before his to protect him from the blast, though she doesn't know if even that will be enough to save his fragile, too-human frame.

The flames explode, white and orange the sole colors raging across her vision as they envelope her, and then there's the terrifying sensation of melting.

All she feels though, with Batou cradled in her arms and the very real prospect of death surrounding her, is relief.

Batou is breathing.

Her vision turns black and she cannot bring herself to fear.

* * *

The room is white; the people clad in red, and the machine a tickling sensation against her senseless corpse. It repairs her, fixes her, and she wonders if next time, maybe she can withstand that blast.

Next time, maybe they could instill greater protection into her skin. She could walk through the flames, find Kuze, take him off guard and-

"Mira,"

It's Doctor Ouelet.

"You have to take better care of yourself. You're a living, breathing human being. You are not a machine."

 _Am I not?_ She thinks.

Why does everyone – Doctor Ouelet, Chief Aramaki, and Batou – keep telling her that she should care for her wellbeing? Why does it matter?

Shouldn't she prioritize the cause, the goal, you know, _protecting other people_ , above all else?

What other reason is there for her to live? She just doesn't have time to waste on self-preservation.

None of them understand. None of them seem to get it.

She's not one of them. She's not _like_ them.

They have hopes, dreams, _families_.

She's just wires and plugs, a brain floating around in a corpse.

It doesn't matter if she dies. It only matters if she saves lives, like she just did…with Batou.

 _Batou_ …

Will he be all right?

Who is she kidding, of course he will be. He's Batou.

He's always okay.

* * *

The man she's interrogating is disgusting but pitiable.

Wires connect to the sides of his face, he wears a yellow jumpsuit, and at the back of his skull rests a rank, stringy mess of a bun. Tears and spit accumulate on his chin and his eyes are bloodshot, his every feature reeking of devastation.

Although his gaze is clear, eyes wide open and urgent in their earnesty, he is blind, sightless in the face of the reality that lies before him.

The reality that the life he thinks he's living isn't real, it's a lie, and that he's never going to return home to a daughter or a wife who never even existed in the first place.

She would have sympathy for him, really, if only he hadn't tried to _murder_ Doctor Ouelet.

( _and almost succeeded_ ).

Her expression hardens and her hologram within the cells dissolves, her mind returning to her body. She backs away from the cell, though her gaze never strays from the prisoner.

"His memory's gone. He won't tell us anything," she says to the rest of her team, and from their various positions around the room they look troubled.

"How can someone's memory be wiped completely?" Batou asks in disbelief, and Togusa responds.

"He's been cyber-hacked, a new reality implanted in his mind. What I don't understand is how...there's nothing here on his data drives. They're totally empty."

They sound bewildered, and because of that they're not watching.

All of a sudden, the prisoner goes slack, his features re-aligning themselves from ruined and desecrate to calm and collected. His posture straightens, and the slightest of smirks widens his lips. He stares at her unblinkingly, eyes intent and beckoning, and it only takes her a moment to make the decision to answer his call.

She marches up to the glass, cutting Togusa off mid-sentence as the prisoner watches, the edges of his mouth twisting upward mockingly.

"He's here."

They all snap to attention.

"That's impossible, we're in a secure cell," Togusa denies, but he and Ladriya are already rapidly scanning their data.

"Quick, get a read on his location!"

She opens the door, her foot just touching tile when Chief Aramaki's voice makes her pause. "We don't know what he's capable of."

His voice is rough, a warning, and she nods, steeling herself for the possibilities that flash across her mind. She steps inside.

Immediately, she finds herself standing toe to toe with the prisoner ( _Kuze_ ). He smiles at her serenely, looking all too satisfied with himself, as if she's just pleased him greatly.

It's irksome.

" _Collaborate with Hanka Robotics and be destroyed_ ," he says, assuring her with his voice that he is exactly who she thinks he is. Her eyes narrow into slits.

"Come here," he demands, and she can practically feel the agitation radiating off her team as she acquiesces to his request. They're so close now, nose tips almost touching with their proximity.

"Who are you," she growls, and of course he would answer in riddles.

"I am that which you seek to destroy. I have lived many lives in many different bodies, but in this life, you would know me as _Kuze_."

"I will find you," she tells him, and he barks out a short laugh, exhaled breath fanning over her face. He focuses on her intently, stressing the importance of his answer.

"Not yet. I'm not finished here yet."

Then he breaks out in a teasing smile.

"I'm shy. I'm not as beautiful as you are. I'm _broken_." Although his tone is light, jovial even, there's something almost too honest about his words. She shivers, yearning to ask him _why_ , why do his words seem to ring too true, to _resonate in her_ , when his entire demeanor shifts.

He blinks, recollecting himself, and then his shoulders are slumping, his eyes rolling back into his head as master abandons his puppet.

"We've got a reading on him. We know where he is!" Togusa shouts, and for a moment, she mourns the loss of their conversation. Then they're all grabbing their weapons, springing into action, and it's quickly overtaken by triumph at unearthing his location.

Behind them, the prisoner convulses within his cell, choking to death.

* * *

She feels fear now – fear for her life – crippling and intense and far too _real_.

She's tied to a machine, which in turn, is connected to the mass accumulation of data acquired by her captor. It's plugged into her systems, and all her knowledge, her _life_ , is on the line, exposed to this villainous piece of _shit_.

But he's not - she realizes - what he seems.

Kuze is a mish-mash of broken parts, sullied and cracked by a harsh life with no doctor visits to repair him. He has bullet wounds littering his torso and skin breaking apart at the seams.

It's apparent he's lived a tough life through the resourcefulness of his body, having evidently upgraded it on his own. He looks like scum, like dirt, and he's covered in grime, but she's not one to judge. To her, he's simply the target.

Until he's not.

While she's shaking, trembling with fear, with fury, and trying to think of anything, _anything_ to break free, he touches her face, almost too gently. He peels back her skin to expose what lies beneath and it…it hurts.

She feels naked, bare.

 _Vulnerable._

And that's when he starts talking.

Kuze is, according to himself, like her. But that's impossible.

"No," he says, "Everything they told you was a _lie_."

There were 98 people before her. 99 including him who were stripped from their bodies, their brains implanted into new, entirely cybernetic frames. People whose lives and memories were stolen from them by Hanka Robotics for the simple sake of an experiment.

" _Collaborate with Hanka Robotics and be destroyed_ ," his message had said. It makes sense now; he's been after revenge.

She is not the first of her kind.

She is the first surviving... _test subject_.

And not even that.

 _He is_.

"Don't take your next dose of pills. They block your memory," he tells her, and her mind is going a million miles an hour. Suddenly, she believes him with startling clarity, and there's anger, there's blankness, but mostly there's fierce, fierce determination above it all to know the truth. He makes a convincing argument and oh, she will find evidence, but more importantly…

Could her family still be alive?

She needs to know everything. Suddenly, she has a mission so much more vital than fulfilling her original purpose. _What is she? Where are the ones she loved?_

 _Maybe…maybe he can answer_.

Kuze is almost frightfully intense. He fixates on her, but not like the men who stroke her face and place a hand over her inner thigh. He calls her beautiful, but he doesn't mean it in the same way they do.

He's bitter.

And looking into his eyes, intimately close and with his hand cupping her back, she knows.

Knows that once, he was beautiful as her (she can see it) until he fell into disrepair. In that way, they are the same.

He hated it.

She would give anything for her old self back, she realizes, and appearances…they've never mattered to her before. Only to everyone else.

Kuze lets her go, and yes, she would have killed him with the rapid-fire bullets that tear instinctively from her gun, despite how her heart isn't in it. But he's not dead and she needs answers. Two parts of her are warring for dominance – to search for her family or to pursue her cause – but for once, she will choose the answer she has never chosen before. It's no longer a difficult decision.

She wants to find her family.

* * *

Doctor Ouelet is a small figure within her bed, thin and frail, swamped under the folds of her sheets. Mira stalks up to her - uncaring of her appearance and not even attempting to disguise her inhumanity - and the doctor's fear is apparent for it.

She doesn't care though.

She doesn't care, shedoesn'tcare, _she doesn't care_.

Doctor Ouelet lied to her. Doctor Caring, _Innocent_ , Ouelet lied to her about everything.

 _Everything_.

And now she owes her answers and she owes her proof.

She steps aggressively into the Doctor's space, crowding her against the wall, and keeping her facial expression unreadable - wiped of the emotions Doctor Ouelet has so often encouraged her to project.

"Mira, what are you doing. Mira please stop-" Doctor Ouelet gasps, and she sees the fear flickering in her eyes, hears the telltale waver of her voice as she tries to get Major to back down.

Her threat is not an idle one however, and that's something they both know. She sees the feeble hope in the Doctor's eyes as she spills the truth that Mira still sees her as innocent and won't hurt her, but it's pathetic.

They both know that's not the case anymore.

Still, when Doctor Ouelet confirms everything Kuze told her and more, her world still crashes down, burns, and she feels like she's drowning.

Yet, she's never drowned before.

 _It never happened._

Her grief, sudden and unexpected is overwhelming. She doesn't know what to do.

So she runs.

* * *

Out beneath the waves in the cold, black depths of sea life, it's peaceful but lonely. There's beauty, but like the colors in the city it's long worn off. Life is dangerous under the sea and she revels in it.

There is nothing, no one there beside herself and for a few blank, terrifying moments in her day she can be nothing. Nobody.

That's why when she's lost, confused, and doesn't know where else to go, she goes to forget.

But of course it's Batou who would find her here. _Of course_.

He's Batou.

Still, she's on edge. There's a tempest in her mind raging at the sky and tunneling her emotions into overdrive with anger, and she directs it all at him.

They're colleagues, co-workers, peers - he owes her no loyalty. Will he kill her? Bring her in if those are his orders? Of course he will. It's not like they're _friends_ or anything.

"You better get your ass together and shut the hell up, before I really get pissed off," he says, and then with just a few words he gets her to unwind, to relax.

The tension falls from her shoulders and she slips further into the ship, peeling off her wetsuit.

Her posture unstiffens and she wonders.

How does he make her feel so?

She quickly brushes the thought aside. There are more important issues at hand right now.

Batou won't turn her in, but that doesn't mean she won't be caught regardless. She has to get herself together.

She informs him of her situation and his brow furrows. "Will you be alright?" He asks her with concern, and she sighs, gazing over the boat's rail at the glimmering city lights shimmering across the water.

"I don't know. I don't know who I can trust."

He nods, biting his lip as they fall into a comfortable silence.

Before he leaves, Batou turns back to give her one last, lingering glance with his strange new eyes.

"You can trust me, right?" he asks, and it's a loaded question.

She pauses for a moment, but really, she's known the answer from before the moment she jumped in front of a bomb for him. She does, of course.

He's Batou.

"I trust you," she says, revealing to him a vulnerability, a weakness of herself, and the slight weight off her shoulders is worth it.

Batou nods, looking appeased but she can let him settle with that. She has a reputation to uphold, you know.

"That doesn't mean I like you," she teases, and the flickering smile at the corner of his lips makes her feel warm.

 _He's my friend_ , she thinks as she makes her way to the shore.

 _My only friend._

There, men armed with guns surround her and she goes willingly, knowing she can't fight them on her own.

Thoughts of Batou linger in her mind, and she sees his eyeless face as they drug her and the world fades black.

* * *

Kuze is an anomaly. Kuze is a mystery, and Kuze is, perhaps, the one person she knows who she feels an innate connection with. He's like her…but unlike her, he is cruel. She doesn't know much of anything about him though for sure. She has to find out the truth.

Somewhere deep inside of her, something cries out in recognition. Something wants to trust him, to see him again and lean her head against his shoulder.

It's strange.

She doesn't know how to feel about that thought.

* * *

When she comes to, she's strapped to a table, the back of her head wide open and cords plugged into her body. There's no hope of escape - not when sedation flows through her veins and a plethora of armed forces stand watch over the room. The situation is dire, and it feels like her worst fears come to life.

They're going to take her memory.

Please…not _again_.

"I am Major Mira Killian, and I do _not_ give my consent to delete this information. I am Major Mira Killian, and I do _not_ give my consent-"

"We never needed your consent." Doctor Ouelet interrupts, and it hits her like a slap in the face. It hurts more than she wished it still did.

She's known the truth now for hours. She's had time to come to terms with it.

That doesn't lessen the horrific reality that these people were using her, controlling her, _playing with her_ , and she trusted them.

 _She trusted them._

Somewhere out in the world, she has a family. She has people she loved and who loved her. She has a place where she belongs.

They took that from her.

And this time, they're not just going to take her memory.

They're going to kill her.

The realization is not a calm one, and it strikes terror deep within her heart. She's gasping, struggling and convulsing, frantically searching for an escape route where none exists. Doctor Ouelet looks clinical, emotionless, even less so than usual, and no, no, please, no-

Not when she's so _close_.

This is it, poison is being injected into her bloodstream and she's going to die here, strapped to a table, sedated, and having lived a worthless life as a tool.

 _A tool._

Then suddenly, Doctor Ouelet is leaning in close and whispering words into her ear. She's shoving a file into her hands, desperately unplugging her - detaching her from the machines - and then she's regained control of her body.

"Run," Doctor Ouelet tells her, and no no, she can't just leave her here to die-

"Go!" Doctor Ouelet shouts, and that's when she realizes that this is this woman's last wish. She is not innocent, but maybe she can atone for her crimes through helping her now.

She runs.

* * *

Mira (but that's not her name, it can't be), _Major_ follows the address given to her by Doctor Ouelet. There's something akin to anticipation thrumming through her veins and giving her energy, purpose.

The houses are small and there are thousands of them, arranged in a circular, spiraling formation so out of place among the skyscrapers of the city. There's nothing familiar about them, about the laundry that hangs out to dry in front of the homes or the curving rooftops and endless stained walkways, but still, she hopes.

 _She hopes._

Reaching the home of her destination, she finds it to be ordinary and identical to every other of the multitude surrounding it. She wastes little time, swiftly knocking, and out from the open door slips a tabby cat that slinks past her legs. Remembering something Batou once said, " _I had you down as more of a cat person_ ," she frowns.

It appears he was right.

The woman who answers the door is not what she expected.

She is small, her face lined but kind, and though she smiles, it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Before Major can get a word in likewise, she is ushered inside, the woman asking if she wants tea and sitting her down at the table.

The house is _homey_ , if she knows the word correctly. It's small, it's ordinary, it's clean and functional, with various little knick-knacks spread throughout its interior and it…it makes her heart ache.

The little woman is smiling, pleased to see her for some reason and she wonders. Is this her mother? An aunt, a friend?

Is she even related to her at all?

The woman sits down and when she speaks, Major is immediately captivated. This woman is her, her _mother_.

As she tells the story of her daughter with little prompting, there's a pain growing sharp within her chest. She hears of herself (or is it?) and the pieces fall into place, sliding together like righted parts of a puzzle, the realization everything she needs to know.

She just didn't expect it to be this painful.

It's not hearing about herself though, or the life she lost even that hurts the worst. It's gazing at this short, lonely woman who pastes a smile on her face, welcomes a stranger into her home and tells them her story, simply because they have a similar look in their eyes to the one her daughter once had. There's so much pain, so much sadness in her expression, but she keeps on hoping, keeps on living and rising to face each new day.

It's so, so sad.

"What was her name?" she asks of her daughter, and when the woman answers it rings so true to her heart, her mind, that she has to get out, get out _now_.

"Motoko."

Motoko Motoko Motoko.

She is Motoko. She _was_ Motoko.

And this woman, this lady is her _mother_. She is the person who brought her into this world, the person who cared for her (and still does) enough to be grieving and hollow after more than a year past her death.

Her throat is heavy, eyes burning as her mother says, "You remind me of her."

"I don't remind you of her," she rasps, lip wobbling, and something inside of her feeling like it's about to burst.

"Who are you?" Her mother whispers, voice trembling perceptibly with the dawnings of an epiphany on the horizon.

She inhales sharply.

It's too much to take in and she needs to do something, do something useful, instead of sit here sedately and listen to another heartbreaking word. She gets up and pushes her chair aside.

"Wait!" her mother cries as she leaves the table, going to the door. She pauses, hand hovering over the handle, waiting for one more moment, because there's something pleading, a wistful longing inside her heart that just wants to hear her mother's voice again.

Her gentle, accented, all too loving voice.

"Will you come back to visit me? Please?" Her mother asks, and oh, she shouldn't have to answer that.

Of course she will.

"Yes," she says before she leaves. Before she runs, runs away from the only home she's ever known but the one she can't remember.

She leaves to end things, to discover more so that eventually…

She can come back.

And _stay_ back.

* * *

She calls Chief Aramaki on the bridge, phone held loosely to her ear as she tries to blend in with the crowd. It's such a relief to hear his familiar voice - the sound of someone who isn't willfully trying to hide anything from her. She trusts him, him and Batou, and they can help each other. She tells him the truth.

"Can you prove it?" he asks her, and no…no she can't. She doesn't have any evidence, not beside her own gut instinct and feeble memories.

"I'll find proof," she says determinedly, and she knows what she needs to do. She needs to find Kuze, the only one who can divulge all the facts. But here's another thing: she wants to find him.

"Stay safe," Chief Aramaki implores and she hangs up.

This is it.

* * *

She knows where to go and her feet carry her there, the knowledge carved into them like something from a dream. They carry her deeper and deeper into the city, yet also farther and farther away from the technology she's grown so accustomed to. They carry her until the sun goes down and she reaches cobbled stone in a place that by now she knows all too well.

The burnt shrine.

It's a risk coming here, letting her signal loose to the world. It's the only way she can be found by either side however, and she's certain that both will indeed come. Hopefully her gamble will pay off and she'll have the time she needs to set things straight with Kuze.

Stepping inside feels like confronting all of her fears, but she's no longer afraid. Here in this place, as her glitches have been trying to tell her, is her past. Here is where everything began and now where it all will end. The acrid tang of smoke - thick in the air despite how long it's been - embraces her like a welcome home. Her hand strokes the wall as she waits for Kuze.

Waits.

Then he's there, and she feels clogged with emotion to know that they had been in this very place together before.

He's not dirt to her any longer, nor is he a target. He's…he's beautiful, but in such a different way than the prostitute she had kissed out on the streets.

He's similar to her in so many aspects, and when she looks at him she sees herself, but more than that, she's sees her past, and in it…

In it there was _love_.

"We were like a _family_ ," she murmurs softly, her mind, her memory, the ghost of her old self telling her that is the truth. There were so many of them, a group of people united by their beliefs and shared segregation. They were in it together from start to finish, united by so much, and yet now, there's only the two of them left.

"We had nothing...nothing except each other," she continues, stepping closer to him.

Kuze looks up, his eyes wide, looking so, so open, and then she's struck suddenly, peering at the wall and tracing his name, just who's been with her all along.

"Hideo?" She whispers, and when he stops, eyes widening even further and then looks at her with such incredible tenderness, affection, her world begins to repair itself, slotting together with its undeniable rightness.

"Mo-Motoko?" He breathes hesitantly, his robotic voice stuttering on her name, and then they're both striding forward, gripping each other's forearms and staring into one another's eyes. His irises are a pale blue now in color, his features sharper, unfamiliar, but the way he holds her, the desperation in his features and the affection churning in his eyes, all bring back memories of the fiery, determined boy who stayed with her for many a cold night in this very shrine.

Even now, parted for so long and every aspect of their bodies different, they can still see each other.

Tears shine in his eyes, reflected in her own too, and they're leaning forward, pressing together with more emotion than she's ever felt.

This feeling, this heartbeat, it's called _love_.

"We'll evolve beyond them, beyond humans. It was what we were made to do," he's telling her as she tilts her head up, tugging him closer and feeling him do the same, wanting to cry with everything she feels. "Come with me," he says, and oh, oh she wants to. For once in her life, she wants to lean on someone else's shoulders and share their world.

But she can't. Not yet.

"I'm not ready to go yet," she reveals to him, and there's pained acceptance in his features but acceptance nonetheless, and it feels so, so good. He gazes down at her and she up at him, and their mutual understanding is the most beautiful thing in the world, the two of them connected by their past lives and now by their present. She smiles, he does back, and it's so wonderfully genuine despite the burning in her eyes.

They're orbiting each other, gravity pulling them closer and closer together-

That's when it all goes to hell.

* * *

"NO!" she shouts hoarsely when Kuze is flung into the air, his body twisting and contorting, then slamming into the wall where he collapses against it motionless. She immediately leaps into action, grabbing her gun, and attacking the awful, horrid Spider Tank that has ambushed them - no doubt on Cutter's orders.

It scuttles on the ground, firing repeating shots at her, but she doesn't let it get a clear hit. She keeps moving, keeps shooting, and she knows that this, this battle is the most important fight of her life.

She finally has something (someone) to fight for. She's fighting for herself now, for her mother and Hideo.

This thing is going down.

 _Aw shit._

She's too slow. For just a second, she's paused long enough for the Spider Tank to lock onto her as a target and she pays for it. The explosion hurls her into the air, and she hears more than sees Kuze's desperate shout of "No!"

At least it tells her he's still alive.

As the spider scuttles forward, shifting ever closer to him, she lies immobile on the ground, feeling burns sizzle across her skin and the light-headedness that comes with being injured. Her state is not as bad as she would have expected however, and it seems that Doctor Ouelet did her one more good thing.

Last time she exploded, it appears her skin got a fire upgrade.

It's excruciatingly difficult to move with the damage she's attained, but she forces herself to rise. On her feet, she sees the Spider tank pointing its gun directly at Kuze's face, aligned with his forehead and at point-blank range. It's about to shoot him, to kill him, but she can't let it do that, let him die, even if it means tearing herself apart.

She leaps forward, landing on the tank's back, and immediately its attention is diverted to her. It swings around and she screams in pain, gripping it with all her strength and not letting go - ripping and tearing at it furiously. It's stomping, shaking the ground with the force of its struggle, but no matter the warning messages that flash across her vision or the beeps alerting her of the fact that she is pushing her body way, _way_ too far, but she refuses to let go.

Her muscles are bulging, expanding with the strain put on them, and it hurts, hurts more than anything she's experienced in her life. But this is nothing, _nothing_ compared to how it would feel to lose Hideo or her mother again.

She _pulls_.

Her skin bursts, her muscles tear, and as the tank is torn apart - ripped through its very core - her arm is torn with it. She's shrieking in agony as she collapses to the ground, but it's done, it's _dead_ , and _oh, thank god_.

She lies there, gazing up at the starless sky, weak, but not alone. She hears more than sees Kuze drag himself across the ground to lie beside her, his metal body scraping harshly against the stone beneath them. She turns her head and he's missing an arm, a leg, and looks frightfully damaged, but he's alive. His hand slides into hers and is it strange that this is the happiest moment of her remembered life?

A tired smile makes its way across his lips but suddenly she feels dread, because she knows that kind of smile. It's the look that people get before they die, when they've sacrificed everything for a cause and know they can't live on any longer.

She's seen it in Doctor Ouelet, in-

"Motoko," he rasps, and her name is so lovely, so _loved_ coming from him. Tears prickle at her eyes and when his fingers twine with hers she sees the imploring plea in his gaze to just _listen_. She nods mutely, mouth open just slightly, and then he's telling her that he won't truly be gone. His ghost will live on to merge with hers should she allow it, but first it'll regenerate within the network he created, and she doesn't believe him, he needs to stop talking, to stop saying such things, please don't _die_ -

"NO!"

Bullets slam into his head, his eyes go white, and for the first time in her remembered life, a tear slides down her cheek and she feels hot, hot rage, and a stinging grief so powerful she rises to her feet despite her wounds.

There's guns pointing at her, snipers surrounding her from all sides and this is it, her death.

It's over.

The first bullet is fired, whistling through the air but it's not aimed at her – instead, it hits the chest of one of the men who topples over, slumping in a heap to the ground amidst a startled silence.

That's when everything descends into chaos.

Suddenly, all of the snipers are going down and she spies Batou, Togusa, and Ladriya emerging from the shadows. She leaps into the fray, grabbing her gun with her good hand and shooting it as best she can.

There's hope.

A flurry of gunshots are exchanged, the enemy barraged, and there's the sweet, sweet relief of finally fighting the opposition on equal terms.

She can't keep it up though, not now, knowing that they are safe and that she need not fight on any longer. She falls, falls beside Kuze, colliding with the ground where the stump of his arm brushes hers.

Soon all the men are dead and Batou kneels beside her, smoothing the hair on her forehead and taking her torso gently within his arms.

"What's your name?" He asks her quietly, and tears are still slipping down her cheeks as he rushes to clarify. "Chief told me you had a name before...before you came to us. What was it?"

"Motoko," she says softly, and a tight, bittersweet smile steals across his face.

"Major's still in there though right?" He prods, and she musters the strength to answer him properly.

"I am."

"Good," he breathes, accent lilting his voice. He helps her stand, holding her upright as the last of her energy threatens to leave her and with his help, she limps to join the rest of the team.

Chief Aramaki calls in and it's with the best news she's heard all night.

He's captured Cutter, apprehended him, and now his life rests within his hands.

Cutter is about to die.

"Major, do you give your consent?"

She feels so, so grateful to hear those words come through the comm after everything that's happened, and she nods grimly. "I am Major," she says, because she is not Motoko, not entirely, and certainly not Mira Killian now, "and I give my consent."

"Any last words you want him to hear?" he asks, and there's a deep satisfaction in telling Cutter that this is justice, the simple fulfillment of her purpose. He made her to protect the innocent, to destroy the evil after all.

And with his death, that's exactly what she's done.

Gunshots ring across their connection and it's like music to her ears. She slumps against Batou and he grips her shoulders tightly, but she points him to turn around, because there's one last thing she needs to do. Confusion settles over his features but he acquiesces as wordlessly she presses a hand to his chest. He helps her limp back from where they came and there, lying upon the ground is Kuze's body. Slipping from Batou's grasp, she kneels on the ground beside him and strokes his lank, dirtied locks away from his face.

His features are slack, marred by bullets, and his unclosed eyes are white, pupil-less and unseeing.

Moisture blurs her vision but she tempers her grief with the reminder of his last words. He's still out there somewhere…his ghost, immortalized in the systems he hacked. She'll find him again and give him a new shell.

She clasps his hand between her own, leans forward to whisper a soft "thank you," against his cheek, and then she kisses his forehead, soft and chaste. Nodding to Batou he helps her stand, and behind them the sun rises, casting light on the burnt shrine of her memories and bringing with it the dawn of a new day.

A new life.

* * *

After her body's been repaired, she's back in the good books with the government, and Section 9 is taking a few days to regroup, she does what she's been yearning to do from the moment she discovered the truth.

Major visits her own grave, an insignificant white stone among the many other thousands laid to rest, unweathered and obviously cared for. The cemetery is huge, graves of all different colors and sizes arranged in neat, spiraling rows within a circle, and she feels something akin to peace settle over her.

She is no longer Motoko nor Mira anymore. She is something between the two, indefinable and yet both all the same. Her old self is dead, as is the one she was just days ago, yet they are still within her through the person she has become.

And now she can finally, _finally_ be at peace for knowing the truth.

Taking a deep breath, she places a bouquet of lilies gently at the foot of her (Motoko's) grave, and turns to leave.

It's not surprising when the next person she'd hoped to visit appears, blocking her path and smiling that kind, perpetual smile.

She hopes her gaze conveys what she truly feels.

"You don't have to come here anymore," she says to her mother, and then there it is, the smile that for the first time reaches all the way to her eyes.

Her mother's eyes sparkle, glistening with tears but also with elation. "I know," she says thickly, and Major feels herself choke up.

"How?"

"You look at me the same way she did," her mother says, and then she's enveloped in a hug, and she's clinging to that small woman and burying her face in her shoulder, taller than someone else for the first time within an embrace.

She feels so loved, and oh she _loves_.

* * *

Her mother takes her home, and there they disturb the carefully protected peace of Motoko's room. They lift the plastic from her bed, her figurines, and when that night she lays there, curled up in that small, cramped room, it's so much more comfortable than her open, spacious one had ever been.

Waking up to the joy in her mother's eyes and that specific niche in the world that she was born into and created for is pure, utter bliss.

She hopes it lasts forever, and if she can, she will never leave this place for the rest of her days.

Her mother is so beautiful.

Returning to Section 9 is not nearly as jarring as she'd expected. There's no Doctor Ouelet anymore, nor Cutter, or any doctors constantly fussing over her really.

There's Chief Aramaki, his team, and the people they work with.

That's so much better.

Batou greets her with a slap on the back and an arm around her shoulder. Togusa smiles warmly and gives her a sharp nod. Ladriya yells "Hey, it's Major!" and a chorus of greetings and smiles follow her entrance into the room. Chief Aramaki has a slight quirk to his lips, but he quickly gets down to business, laying out their next case, and she feels content.

She has a name for what she feels for these people now, finally - how they helped her and how she's helped them, and it's a simple one.

 _Love._

* * *

There's still corruption; there's still greed and lust and lies in the city and in the government, but it's better these days. She's in a position now where instead of fearing for herself and being so woefully contemplative all the time, she can focus the majority of her efforts into saving others.

She spends her days with her mother, learning how to cook and how to sew all over again. She learns what it feels like to be cared for - how to help her mother when she cries from the relief of having her daughter back, or the nightmares where she's gone again, and of course she learns to respond to the name "Motoko."

She goes on missions with her team, helps Batou feed his dogs and teach them new tricks and isn't so afraid to use her body anymore.

She visits that prostitute on the streets, kisses her on the lips and heads on her way, occasionally escaping to the ocean when everything gets to be too much.

Life isn't perfect of course but she never asked for it to be. She's happy, she's found her place, and she could never ask for more.

She _belongs_ here.

But there's one thing that's still missing.

Kuze's body is gone, buried in the same cemetery as her own grave just as she'd demanded, but she knows his ghost is still out there somewhere all alone, waiting for her.

Major needs to find him and she knows, knows that he left her a clue behind inside herself.

She just has to find it and when she does, they'll be together again.

That's all that matters in the end.

For now though she stands atop a building, watching the data intake ebb and flow from her processors and scanning the occupants that reside within it. Chief Aramaki sends her his approval, and then she does what she was built to do (and would do anyway these days regardless).

Major strips off her jacket, lets it fall from her shoulders to the ground by her feet, and turns so that her back faces the sky.

She falls backward, body naked and bared to the world, reverting to invisibility as the clouds spiral above her and the sun beats down below. She lands upright, balanced on the balls of her feet, gun in hand and ready to go.

It's showtime.

Tbc...

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I have no idea if this fic is any good, but it's the most fun I think I've ever had writing. It's totally my baby right now...and an outlet for all those crazy emotions the movie put me through At any rate, I do hope you'll stick by me as I update in the future, and know that any favorite, follow, or review you leave would make my day.  
Thanks so much for reading!


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